


Operation: Redfield - Made of Dishonor

by TheLadyFrost



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Freeform, Gen, Hijinks, Karaoke, Leon's hair, boulder punching, drunken toasts, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 02:35:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13731315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyFrost/pseuds/TheLadyFrost
Summary: They were best friends. They were pals. They were perfect together. A drunken promise. A panicking man whore. And a phone call freeing him from a shotgun wedding. His best friend is tying the knot. And everybody's favorite punning agent is about to take on the greatest mission of his life: to stop the wedding, steal the bride, and save the day. With a trio of hapless heroes in his corner, a boulder punching brother in his way, bad karaoke to light the way, and a bottle scotch for a crutch - Leon S. Kennedy is about to fight a villain like nothing he's ever faced before - heartbreak. His girl is about to marry the wrong guy - and this flirtatious fuck up? He's running out of time.





	Operation: Redfield - Made of Dishonor

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Clearly, an homage to My Best Friend's Wedding. Such a sweet movie. I wanted to do something fun and humorous and fluffy. So here it is. I am looking forward to the hijinks everybody's favorite pun-filled badass (clumsy) agent will get into trying to steal back a girl he lost. It should be humorous and uncomfortable for everyone.
> 
> Additionally, I'm working on a Resident Evil version of The Office. With Wesker as Michael. Oh, yeah. You read that right.
> 
> I've been hungering for humor it seems. For now? Thanks for reading!

-My Best Friends Wedding –

The cigarette swirled inky smoke around the blue of his eyes.

He laughed, lightly, tapping the ash off into the crystal tray on the table before them.

"Claire…shit…that's a story. I ever tell you about that? How she became my girl?"

"I'm all ears, clearly."

He laughed, rolling his boot up to his knee as he adjusted his body. He picked up the highball of scotch and sipped, recollecting it all.

"So, we meet in Raccoon City. It's instant friendship. You HAVE to like Claire. She's mouthy and funny and no bullshit. We find out we have the same damn birthday. Insta-bonding. We get out of that shit pit and it's instant pals. We kept each other laughing the whole time. We get out, we're exhausted, we're filthy…we're a mess…"

He tapped the smoke again, grinning a little, "So, we do what any red-blooded fucking American's do post-trauma. We go to Vegas."

"Vegas?"

"Oh, yeah. We have three HOT days in the city of sin. I mean – we're going at it like we're gonna die if we don't. It's heavy. It's crazy. Claire? She's all about doing it in public. It's probably the hottest sex anybody ever had…EVER. That's my girl, she's all about getting what she wants from you."

Laughing, he sipped the scotch again, "Anyway – it's good. But I do what I always do afterward – I panic. I pull back. Whoa whoa whoa. I'm not looking for forever blah blah blah…"

"Sounds like you."

"Right? Commitment phobic. That's my middle name."

"Pretty sure that S in the middle stands for SINGLE."

"Right? Ha. Right. So anyway, she's cool with it. She's downright awesome about it. She shrugs it off. She's naked on the floor, sweaty and laughing. I'm trying to get out of being a cuckhold to her. And she just lets me off the hook. No harm, no foul. But she grabs my hand right? And spits in it."

"…..gross.."

He laughed, loud and high, "Oh, yeah. GROSS. But with purpose. And EFFECTIVE. I'm not forgetting a girl that spits in my hand. She slaps our palms together. She grabs my hand so tight. And she says, "Swear. SWEAR. When we're 35…if we're not married….we marry each other."

He laughed again, remembering. "Crazy girl. I said yes. And we've been best friends ever since. She's my girl. She's always showing up in weird places to hang out with me. We've run with the bulls. We skydived over the Mediterranean. When I need her? She's always there."

"What about you?"

"I'd die for her." Said so simply. No bullshit. "She's not somebody you forget. And she's definitely somebody worth fighting for."

"A good girl?"

"The best."

"Hmm." The companion shifted, showing long legs in a tight red dress, "An interesting thing to mention…tonight of all nights…"

The storyteller shifted, sipping his drink again. "Yeah? How so?"

"Well…you have the same birthday you said?"

"Right."

"Well, aren't you turning 35 in a few hours?"

He dropped the cigarette. It rolled across the table and was picked up by the listener. The red-clad woman grinned a little.

"I take it you hadn't thought about it."

And now he laughed, shaking his head. "It was a long time ago. She probably doesn't even remember."

"Hmmmm. And yet…you bring it up…YOU mention it. Tonight of all nights. Why I wonder?"

It was a good question.

The storyteller wasn't sure he wanted to answer it. He wasn't even sure he was READY to answer it.

….

At precisely 12:01, his phone rang.

Considering it, slightly afraid, he answered it gingerly, "Yo."

Laughter. And teasing.

Claire.

"Kennedy. Who answers their phone that way?"

"Cool guys, clearly. What's shakin, sweetheart?"

"Happy birthday."

"Same to you."

"Feelin old?"

He glanced at himself in the mirror beside the bed. Naked. Honed. Handsome. He looked pretty afraid. Which was interesting since he'd never been afraid of anything in his life.

Not even facing down a hundred Ganado with just eight bullets.

He laughed a little, "Not exactly. You?"

"Nope. Timeless."

"Naturally."

"Listen, handsome, I was thinking of you earlier. And you'll probably laugh when I bring it up…"

Oh lord, he thought madly, here it came.

"Bring what up?"

ANYTHING BUT THAT.

And she said, "That night in Vegas?"

Nope.

It was THAT.

"Yeah? Which night was that?"

"The one where we, you know, pledged to get married at 35."

His heart? HAMMERING.

"I recall….vaguely….a drunken promise or two."

"Well, I have some good news for you."

Leon Kennedy sat down on his bed, trying to figure out how to avoid marrying his best friend. What was a polite way to reject someone from a spit swear?

Was there a polite way to do that?

Seemed unlikely.

But she said, "I'm letting you off the hook."

And his panic? Gone. Poof. Confusion instead now.

"What?"

"Oh, yeah. Good news for you huh? I met someone Leon. I'm getting married. You? Released from your promise. Bet that feels pretty good huh?"

Actually…actually…he glanced at his face in the mirror.

It felt awful.

Kinda like a kick in the sack.

What had she said?

"You're getting married."

"Yep. It's coming together REALLY fast. Six weeks. I NEED YOU. Tell me you'll come. I need a maid of honor, Leon."

He blinked. "You want me to be your maid of honor?"

Claire laughed, tinkling, "Not exactly but kinda. Chris is already the best man. I need you! I need you here. SAY YES. Say yes, Leon. Please."

"Of course, kid. Yes. Naturally. When and where."

Married.

What the fuck?

To whom?

Not that it mattered.

Claire laughed again, "AWESOME. Ok. I'll email you the deets. I can't WAIT for you to meet him. Kevin Ryman? He was in Raccoon City too. We met at that Terrasave thing you stood me up for about eight months ago. Fortuitous huh? You stiff me for work, and I meet my future husband. FATE. What what? Right?"

He said nothing.

"Anyway…get here fast ok? LOTS to do. And don't...try not to show up and pun everyone to death. Promise?"

She was being distinctly unfair. He only punned like mad when he was nervous or scared.

Ok...OK. So, he would probably pun everyone to death. Maybe she was right about that.

"No promises, darlin."

Claire laughed, "I love you, rookie. Say you know it."

"Know it. And ditto, kiddo."

"Hah. Get some sex, old man! It's our birthday! You deserve it! Peace out!"

She clicked off.

He sat there staring in the mirror.

Married.

To his reflection he said, "What is this shit? What? How the hell did this happen!? She's loved me for fifteen god damn years ME. How is this even happening right now!?"

His reflection stared back.

So, maybe he hadn't been ready…a few minutes before that call. Maybe he was panicking a little then. Maybe. But he'd have come around. He'd have married her.

He'd kinda WANTED to marry her.

He just needed an excuse to pretend he was pressured into it. Seeing as he was a notorious man whore. A man whore needed forced into commitment, right?

But what was this!?

Now what the hell was he supposed to do?

His face stared back at him.

His mouth opened, and his voice said, "That's easy enough, dumb shit, get your ass on that plane – and go steal the bride."

Seemed reasonable enough.

After all, he was a highly trained operative who spoke fifteen languages and could kill a man with a quarter from a hundred yards on a stormy night.

Clearly – he could steal a fucking bride.

How hard could it be?

Seriously?

How hard?  
...............................................................................................


End file.
